Chapter 1255 - 310: Begging for Money

Chapter 1255: Chapter 310: Begging for Money

Such a large-scale tribal migration could never be completely hidden from prying eyes, unless the tribe had no elders, weaklings, women, or children, and was made up entirely of able-bodied warriors who could ride and bend the bow. The latter could veil their movement by slaughtering and silencing all they plundered along the way and then racing off, but the former—dragging their whole households with them—basically had no such chance.

At the same time, the nearby wild people tribes all sent out their own warriors to begin monitoring, and these warriors were gathering in ever greater numbers. One tribe had two or three thousand, another had four or five thousand. Very soon, along this migration route, nearly over twenty thousand warriors from various wild people tribes were glaring at them like tigers watching prey.

Messages also began to pass swiftly between the tribes, and from the outer ring, new warriors kept entering and joining in.

The snowfield had always had its own mode of survival and development. In a blind man’s words: the poorer the productivity in a place, the clearer its laws of survival.

The entire snowfield was a giant Undead Insect breeding ground.

In the past few years, it had bred a wild man king. After the wild man king was defeated by the Yan people, the Black Dragon banner above Snow Sea Pass became a nightmare to many tribes on the snowfield.

Fortunately, that nightmare seemingly had no intention of launching a full-scale incursion into the snowfield for now. So although no one dared to prance about like the Naman Tribe anymore, they still kept up the devouring and absorption of other tribes as their way of development—that much was certain.

This newly appeared migrating tribe was a flock of lambs waiting to be slaughtered; the warriors dispatched from all surrounding tribes were here to carve up the meat.

Very soon, some experienced tribal elders picked out a few traits from this migrating tribe and made a guess: they believed this tribe was very likely from the extreme north.

The snowfield was vast, but the places suitable for habitation and reproduction were actually few. Even to the wild people of the snowfield themselves, the extreme north was considered a death zone.

But that didn’t mean there were no tribes living there at all—there were. It was just that the tribes up there were generally very frail, and extremely scattered.

Because any tribe with real strength would long ago have left the extreme north to seize a pasture somewhere else on the snowfield.

And the leaders of those tribes cruising on the outer ring could also see that this tribe, though it looked like a whole, was in fact stitched together.

Migration of wild people tribes across the snowfield was common: moving from one pasture to another to let the old one rest—that was a privilege reserved for the great tribes;

The small and medium tribes, driven by environmental shifts and changes in water and grass, were forced to migrate as whole tribes—that was the snowfield’s norm;

So almost every snowfield tribe had migration experience, and plenty of it.

Whenever a tribe migrated, the herds and the old, weak, women, and children would be assigned specific positions, while the tribe’s warriors would be consolidated, one part forming a main striking force—a clenched fist—moving at the front, and another part roaming around the tribe.

The former flaunted their strength to any tribe daring to harbor designs on them; the latter prevented opportunists from fishing in troubled waters and sowing chaos.

But this migrating tribe, though its warriors were equipped extremely crudely, with armor hardly to be seen, actually had no small number of fighting men. There were few elders in the ranks, which meant few burdens. After all, in that extreme northern land, anyone still alive had already been brutalized and screened by nature itself.

Yet their able-bodied men were scattered throughout the column, never gathered together. Especially when hostile tribal war bands were spotted outside, they almost instinctively broke up into one group after another.

The law of survival on the snowfield was: when facing a wolf pack, you must aim your last arrows at a single wolf, so that the entire pack grows wary of you.

This column had clearly failed to do that.

Several great tribes that had sent out armies were already blowing their horns and raising their own banners. Their prior waiting had two purposes: first, to allow warriors from all quarters to assemble; second, to discuss how exactly they would carve up this migrating force of thirty thousand. This was a feast meant for everyone.

At the front of the migration column, an old man with grizzled hair, a string of human skulls hanging from his neck, squinted his eyes and scanned the surroundings.

Nearly a thousand warriors guarded him.

He was Sang Hu, once a major general under the wild man king’s command. Though he had a grudge against the star-sacrificer, the wild man king had arranged for him to take the position of Elder Envoy of the Stars.

After the defeat at Wang River, he was separated from the wild man king. Through endless hardship he finally returned to the snowfield.

As the most loyal of the wild man king’s subordinates, he sought out the eight hundred loyal warriors the king had deliberately left behind when he entered the pass. They were the final contingency.

Leading these eight hundred-plus warriors, Sang Hu went to the extreme north, and there he gathered a large number of scattered small tribes, finally managing to take shape again as a force.

He waited, waiting for the king’s return;

Even though rumors outside said the king had already been slain by the Yan people, or captured and carried off to Yanjing, he still waited.

He had no sons or daughters, no ties, no attachments. Someone like that, in truth, was the most loyal.

At last,

he received a letter from the king.

So he immediately led this patchwork tribe and began migrating south.

Now, facing the encirclement of the wild people tribes’ troops all around, there was not a trace of fear in his eyes. Instead, he quietly ordered his men to raise the royal banner of the wild man king!

The wild man king’s royal banner was made of Snow Wolf hide. Under the sun, it shimmered with silver light.

The previous royal banner had been lost on the battlefield and taken back to Yanjing by the Yan people as spoils of war. This one was made anew by Sang Hu himself after he hunted a Snow Wolf.